Patriots, imagine you're sitting at home on any given Sunday. Perhaps you're enjoying the antics of the little birds cavorting around the birdfeeder you've fought hard to keep skwerl-free. Suddenly, there's a knock on the door. You go and find yourself confronted by some loser skwerlhuggers wanting to preach to you about the coming of the "Nice Squirrel."
Who's the Nice Squirrel, you ask? According to the skwerlverts, the Nice Squirrel is a mystical white nutzy with one thing on its mind: "To set everything right." But, right for whom?
Patriots, if such a white devil does exist, and we say it doesn't, but if it did, it would be just that: a maniacal chitterdemon from the abyss with slavering jowls, bloody red eyes, and a screech to wake the dead.
But the pathetic skwerlhuggers at your door are insistent: if you do not accept the Nice Squirrel and the Gospel of Orthodox Skwerlhuggery, you will be hurled headlong into the Bottomless Flaming Pit of Perdition, there to dwell... forever.
Conversely, the Faithful will live in Glory in the Boundless Orchard of Delicious Nuts...
At this point, you're reaching for the whacking stick next to your door, but later you wonder: Are there skwerls in heaven? Is there really a Nice Squirrel and/or are there "mystical squirrels" as the skwerlhuggers say?
To answer these questions, we invite you to express your opinion and/or report your mystical squirrel sighting via the handy form below. We also offer you the opportunity to take our Skwerls in Heaven poll...
But remember, as one Patriot said, "If there are squirrels in heaven, it's because angels have to eat, too."
A READER COMMENTS...
I've heard the legend of a mythical white creature that resides somewhere outside of Dallas. A bunch of skwerlhuggers actually adopted this vermin and gave it a name and chose it as the church mascot. A local pecan farmer was going to shoot the thief one day when he was stopped suddenly (with his trusty .22 aimed and ready) by a loud booming voice sounding eerily similar to that of God in the movie "The Ten Commandments." Surprised by the beckoning from above, the farmer slowly dropped his gun sites off the white fuzzy beast and looked in the direction of the voice. There he found, not God, but a church parishioner, camera in hand on a branch of one of his pecan trees, beckoning him to a fight if he dare harm one hair on the pale, red eyed critter. So as not to cause a neighborhood riot amongst Godly folks, the farmer withdrew to the comforts of his doublewide vowing that the devil did not go down to Georgia, but lives east of Dallas wearing a white skwerl suit, just waiting to destroy a man's livelihood.
IN SEARCH OF THE TREE OF DELICIOUS NUTS
PERSIL AND THE PRETENDERS